Close Quarters
by Retro Soul
Summary: After escaping Terminus, the group stumbles upon a seemingly abandoned farmhouse stocked with food and weapons. Only after spending the night do they realize the farmhouse is actually inhabited by another group, causing a feud. When the two groups attempt to co-exist, both friendships and rivalries are formed.
1. Chapter 1

**After escaping Terminus, the group stumbles upon a seemingly abandoned farmhouse stocked with food and weapons. Only after spending the night do they realize the farmhouse is actually inhabited by another group, causing a bittersweet feud between the two. As the two groups attempt to co exist, both friendship and rivalry form.**

 **This story will introduce a group of eight unique OCs. I can assure you of definite Rick x OC, Carl x OC, maybe even Michonne x OC, and possibly more! I'd like to thank you in advance for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

It was the fifth day. The fifth day of aimlessly wandering through the wooded area, in search of refuge. The fifth day since the nightmare of Terminus had gone up in flames. It was the fifth day, and yet it felt like the fifth year. Each member of the group trudged on in hopes of some vision of sanctuary. Whether it be in the form of a traveling survivor, the sight of smoke in the distance, or an abandoned camp. Whatever the case may be, the group continued on with that idea as their motivation. Yet spirits were not at their highest amongst the group and whatever hope they had was beginning to dwindle. As the fifth day approached it's close, there was a word to be had.

A distressed Daryl pulled up alongside Rick who led the group forward, almost as if he were leading them into battle.

"It's been five days, Rick," Daryl remarked, although he was unsure what kind of response he was expecting to get back. Out of all the sixteen members of the group, none were as troubled as Rick. These were his people and they looked to him to take care of them. Since Terminus, all he had done for them was drag them through the woods and given them what seemed to be false reassurance. Each day they spent wandering intensified the danger.

Rick merely ignored Daryl's comment, continuing to walk in silence. He didn't want to hear about how many days it had been, how tired everyone was, how dangerous this was becoming. He knew.

"It's been five days," Daryl repeated himself, his tone gaining aggression.

"I know how many days it's been," Rick snarled in his low register.

Daryl winced, glaring over at Rick. He respected this man, loved him like a brother. But sometimes he just couldn't seem to see things from his point of view.

"We need to get to the road side. We ain't gonna find shit, wandering around the wilderness like this."

"Roads are too dangerous. Makes us an easier target."

"We're gonna die like this," Daryl growled, keeping his voice low. The rest of the group was already loosing faith, he didn't need to add to their discouragement.

It were almost as if an act of God, at that very moment. As the group approached the peek of a hill, there was a clearing on the way down. And a farmhouse.

Resisting the urge to grin with smugness, Rick looked back at Daryl with a perked brow. "No, we're not."

Sighs of relief were released from the group upon obtaining sight of the farmhouse. While a wave of relief washed over the members of the group, they did not advance toward the house. Not yet.

"What are you thinking?" Michonne's hand lightly brushed against Rick's arm as she looked to him for direction.

He took a moment to respond, his eyes scanning the area. If he was going to lead his people into the farmhouse, he was going to make damn sure it was secure.

"I'm thinking, this is the first thing we've come across in five days. I don't hear movement or voices from here. There's no lights on in the house." He then pointed to a tall structure that was at least fifty feet away from the farmhouse - a water tower. "I'm thinking we make a move on the house. If it checks out, we stay the night. In the morning, we check that water tower and fill up. Then we'll take things from there."

Rick then turned back to face the rest of the group, looking to them as if he was challenging them to speak up against anything he had just said. However, none did and they began to prepare for the descend down the hill and the attempt to take the house.

With one swift hand motion from Rick, the members dispersed and were on the move, their weapons at the ready.

On the charge, Rick began to find it strange that there weren't any walkers on the premises of the farm. And as he neared closer to it, he noted that there were live trees and bushes in the fields. Either this place had been recently abandoned or they were in for an unfriendly encounter. It didn't help that the sun was quickly descending and his visuals were not as accurate as he'd like them to be.

In a matter of seconds, the entire group was surrounding the door, all looking to Rick for the next act to take. He held his hand out, signalling everyone to wait. With his hand gun raised, he quietly advanced towards the door. Daryl was to his left and Michonne to his right. With his gun still drawn, Rick grasped the door handle and fought with it, in an attempt to open it. Stepping away from the locked door with a sigh, he proceeded to aim the gun at the lock.

Upon the clatter that followed the shot, Rick kicked in the door and, in an instant, the majority of the group filed into the home with weapons drawn, with Carol and Carl standing guard outside the now opened door.

After searching the entire home, any sign of a walker or live human was not found. It seemed almost too good to be true. Perhaps, it was.

The home contained one living room that opened to the kitchen. With only one floor, all three of the bedrooms were contained on the same level as the kitchen and living room. The largest bedroom had it's own bathroom, which turned to be the only bathroom in the house. Upon further inspection in the kitchen, it was discovered to be stocked with an abundance of non perishable food. In the storage closet, there was discovered to be a fair amount of weapons and ammunition. The house was abandoned, as far as the group could see. But what about all the supplies that was left behind? And the fact that the bedrooms seemed as if they were a little bit _too_ homey? If this house really was abandoned, Rick reasoned that it hadn't been for long.

"Check this out," Tara exclaimed, pulling out a walkman from one of the dresser drawers. "It's been a good seven years since I've seen one of these things."

"This looks pretty good, Rick," Tyreese commented, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

"A little too good, don't you think?" this remark came from Carol who quickly approached the two. "A full stock of food and weapons? No walkers? There's something not right about this."

"Why does something always have to be wrong for it to be right?"

"Think about it. Is anything ever easy these days?"

"Carol's right," Rick said, before Tyreese could even think about a response. "This is a little bit too good of a find. I don't know if I'm ready to believe we could be this lucky yet."

The sound of Judith's wails caused the bearded leader to pause his sentence. It made him realize that it didn't matter how sketchy this was. His baby daughter needed food and rest. They couldn't afford not to stay, at least for the night. After ordering Carl to put Judith down for bed, he turned back to Tyreese and Carol.

"We'll stay here for the night. We need to rest."

"I'll take the watch," Carol volunteered without a second thought.

"You sure?"

"Are we ever really sure, Rick?" With that, the woman strode away, grabbing a blanket before settling in the chair in front of the wide window that allowed a view of the area in front of the home. Another factor that bothered Carol was the fact that all of curtains had been shut when they entered. Everything had been left as if someone was living here. If that was the case, then where were they?

In the matter of twenty minutes, the large group had settled down for the night. With most of them scattered on the floor of the living room, the tired members quickly drifted off into slumber. And although the thought of closing her eyes for a warm, uninterrupted sleep was very enticing to Carol, she forced herself to resist the urge and keep watch.

What the group did not know was that they, themselves were being watched. A measly fifty feet away, two sets of eyes glared down at the sleeping bodies through the open window. However, instead rubbing their hands together menacingly and devising a horrid plan of ambush, these two figures merely shook in fear. Up on the water tower, camouflaged by the night, they stood. Outnumbered and fearful, they were forced to remain subdued. Instead of devious predators made of weapons and wrath, they were made of glowing eyes and invisible whispers.

" _What are we going to do now?_ "


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks in advance for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

Until the night gave out to the morn, each breathing body on the farm remained still. The bodies on the floor of the living room, Carol in her chair, and the two figures on the water tower. At some point in the night, the exhaustion of the last five days had gotten to Carol and slumber had closed her eyes and brought her to a state of unawareness. Such an event made it possible for the two figures on the water tower to descend and retreat to an area out of eyeshot from the sleeping Carol.

The figures belonged to Helen and Stephen Thomas, mother and son. At the start of the previous day, it seemed as if their only worry was the safe arrival of Henry - Helen's husband and Stephen's father -, along with the rest of their group. However, as the sun hid behind the horizon, much greater fears plagued them.

"Just wait until your father gets back," Helen had whispered, her limbs close to trembling. "He'll know how to take care of this."

"He's going to be angry at us," is what her seventeen year old son replied with. "He's going to yell."

Helen wrapped a weak arm around her son's shoulder, pulling him close. "I know."

It was nearing four in the morning when Carol's body finally gave in to the tugging temptation of sleep, allowing Helen and Stephen to lower themselves from the water tower and retreat to the barn that was to the right of the farmhouse, only visible from the bedroom windows. It was there that they remained until the sun dared to show it's face again. Many things weighed on Helen's conscience at this point. Who were these people and how were they going to get them out of the house without any sort of skirmish? What would happen when the others returned? Would they return? After two of their group members hadn't returned from a food run, they had decided to go out after them, leaving Helen and her son on the look out. There wasn't supposed to be any sort of trouble. They had made it months without any immense threat to their survival. It was supposed to be simple; keep watch over the farm until the others returned. But when Helen saw the large group descend down the hill, armed and ready, she knew that her and Stephen were not only outnumbered, but that they were in a severe crisis.

It had been two hours after dawn when the rest of Helen's group finally showed up near the farm, the familiar hum of Joseph's pick up truck sounded from down the road. Helen liked to think that Joseph Reed would have been their official leader if it weren't for his passive nature, her husband's aggression, and the strong will of the rotten half of the Anderson brothers.

Upon hearing Joseph's truck, Helen motioned for Stephen to follow her as she sprinted from the barn and down the road, in attempt to stop the truck before it reached the farm. The noise threatened to awake the strangers, and having the strangers aware of the group before the group was aware of the strangers would not end well.

Alarmed at the site of Helen running towards the truck with her arms flailing above her head, Joseph brought the truck to a swift stop. Henry was seated beside him while the Anderson brothers, Desmond MacNeil, and Winifred Turner road in the back.

"What's wrong, Helen?" Joseph asked, rolling his window down. Shutting off the car only to start it back up again moments later would only waste more gas and battery.

"There's people in the house," Helen gasped for air, leaning against the truck for support.

Both Joseph and Henry's eyes widened at the news, as well as the others in the back.

"How could you let that happen?" Henry cut in before Joseph could open his mouth.

"There were so many of them. At least twelve, maybe more. They just shot the lock off and took over the house. They have a kid and a baby…we were outnumbered…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the retort came from the back of the truck, from none other than Saul Anderson. "This is what you get for leaving the two weakest members to defend the farm." Unlike his gentle and religious brother, Jeffrey Anderson, Saul was known as the bitter half of the two; angry at a god he claimed not to believe in and as hot headed as they come.

"Turn off the car," Henry grumbled, snatching the keys out of the ignition. At this point, Joseph and Henry exited the truck, joining Helen and Stephen on the ground. Henry then turned his attention to his wife once again. "All you had to do was watch the damn farm, Helen. You can't kill biters, you can't kill anything. I thought the least you could do was watch the fucking farm!"

"Easy, Henry," Joseph spoke softly, although he rubbed his palms together nervously.

"Fuck you, don't you care?"

"It's my farm, you're damn right I care."

The company grew silent, only remaining as such for a couple of moments while Joseph thought. "What are they doing now?" the slender, bearded man finally asked Helen.

"Sleeping. At least they were when I left. There was a woman keeping watch but she fell asleep too."

Joseph nodded, looking back to the others in the back of the truck. "We'll walk from here. Take them by surprise, work something out, and get the house back. Winnie, After about twenty minutes, I want you to start up the truck and drive it back to the farm."

To this, the fifteen year old nodded, catching the keys that Joseph tossed to her. Although two years younger than Stephen, Winifred Turner was treated as more of an adult, while Stephen was looked after as if he were a child. Stephen blamed it on the fact that she was Joseph's favourite, as he had adopted her after four months into the outbreak. However, compliance and skill played a big part in the difference of treatment. It would be an understatement to say that the two did not get along.

The company reached the farmhouse at a slow march, approaching it from behind. Joseph anticipated this to go calmly. They wouldn't launch an attack, they wouldn't use violence from the get go. Joseph was a man of words rather than violence and he hoped the situation could be worked out with discussion. However, should it go south as many encounters did go these days, he knew he'd have to use force.

Although it had been nearly three hours since the sun had shown it's face over the horizon, Rick's group had yet to awaken. The exhaustion of the past five days had them immersed in their sleep. Some snored on in blissful slumber while others tossed and turned with distress. On this particular morning, Judith did not stir with a cry, demanding to be fed or changed. All was silent within the farmhouse. But outside, a plan was brewing.

"Stephen, stay with your mother," Henry muttered to his son, shooting a disgruntled glance in his young wife's direction. She had failed the group again. She had been proven useless for fighting off walkers or devising tactics. And she had failed at this too. Although the group was quickly growing aggravated with her inadequacy, no one had less patience with her than her husband.

After watching Helen and Stephen retreat to the water tower once again, Henry joined the others. Joseph and Saul led the group of five men, rounding around the back of the farmhouse. The back door had been barricaded with wooden panels and sharpened metal spikes stuck up from the ground to disable walkers from getting at the door. The set up had been in place sine the beginning of the outbreak - when it was just Joseph at the farm and the names _Margaret_ and _Tom_ would leave his lips in the form of a sob each night. Joseph was not about to destroy the back defences to get inside. He was, however, prepared to damage the window.

"We can't all be here at the window. We need to spread out," Saul commented once he recognized Joseph's plan. "I'm taking the front door."

"I'll help you," Jeffrey insisted, taking a step toward his older brother.

"No, you need to be at the back door. Just in case they try to come out that way."

"You're sure you can handle the front all by yourself?"

"You think I can't?" Saul's tone, although it were already sharp, seemed to get even sharper.

"No. I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't." Saul took a quick glance around the huddle of survivors. "Just take the back, Jeffery."

Swallowing heavily, Jeffery followed his brother's order, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder as he paced to the back door. Saul only retreated for the front once he was assured Jeffrey had followed through with what he had told him. Often times, he saw him as his very own soldier. To command and order around. Perhaps, the fact that Jeffrey obeyed him made it easier. However, despite Jeffery's compliant tendancies, he had no problem with voicing his opinion when it differed from Saul's. Which, in most cases, it did. On every topic and decision, the brothers, only two years apart, could not be more different.

Joseph had Desmond covering the other window and Henry had insisted on remaining with Joseph. While this could be taken as an act of assistance or protection, Henry had other intentions. He strived for control, for massed praise and respect, to be the hero. He had himself convinced that, if it were not for Joseph Reed, he would indeed be the hero. He was at Joseph's right side every step of the way, not because he cared for the gentle giant but because he was waiting for him to falter.

Reaching up, Joseph produced his knife, which he used to cut away the natural seal of dirt and mold that had glued the window to the windowsill. Ever so gently, he began to pry the window open, making sure that the creaks and squeaks that it produced were at their minimal. The window started at Joseph's mid torso. Although, with Joseph being a man that stood at 6'7, it was still a rather high window. He peered into the bedroom, detecting only two bodies; those of Maggie and Glenn. The couple were fast asleep, with Maggie faced the opposite direction and Glenn sleeping on his front with his arm draped over her. Sleeping in the bed rather than in the living room with the others was not something they were keen on but both Tyreese and Bob had insisted they take it.

Within a matter of moments, Joseph had managed to crawl in through the window. However, as he was a large man in terms of height, the task was not as elegant as he would have hoped and his boot on the creaky wooden floor was the straw that broke the camel's back. Henry watched the scene from outside as Glenn began to stir, turning over onto his back to face Joseph, his body casting a perfect silhouette onto the bed. Jolting wide awake at the site of what he saw as an invader, Glenn opened his mouth to call out for the others when Joseph had not choice but to raise his gun. The only thing Joseph hated more than encountering walkers was encountering strangers.

"Don't," Joseph told him, his voice low and his face almost completely blank. "I'd like to talk to who's in charge here."

Glenn remained silent and motionless, his hands raised in surrender.

"Glenn?" He heard his name on his wife's drowsy voice. Her eyes cracked open, unaware of Joseph's presence. It was not until her blurry vision made out the figure of a tall bearded man, holding a gun in her husband's face that she too jerked up in the bed.

"Don't say anything," Glenn muttered to her, yet he did not move his head from it's position. "He wants to talk to Rick."

With her bottom lip trembling, Maggie looked to Glenn, then to Joseph, her discretion foggy. Was she to scream to alert the others and save their lives? Or keep quiet in order to save her husband's?

"I would like you to bring him here. In this room. I have people on every exit of the house so don't bother with that. I don't want to hurt any of you. I just need you to return to me what is rightfully mine."

"What's rightfully yours?" Glenn questioned him, squinting up at Joseph as the sun peeked over his shoulder and blinded him.

Joseph brought himself to smile at the young man.

Trembling, Maggie slowly stood from the bed and began to walk towards the door. She was still deciding if what she was told to do and what she _would_ do, would match. This situation was like none they had been in before. She had two option; follow as the stranger said and deal with this calmly or wake everyone up, tell them to ready themselves for a fight. But, as she stepped out of the bedroom and looked over the group sleeping peacefully on the living room floor, she knew she couldn't disturb them. The man had said he meant no harm - but how many times had they heard that before? She'd be stupid to believe him. At least at this point.

Regardless of Maggie's internal struggle, she quietly made her way to the bedroom next to theirs, in which Rick, Carl, and Judith took possession of. Not taking the risk of knocking, she pushed the slightly ajar door open and slipped through the doorway. Rick and his son lay in the bed while Judith slept in a laundry basket on the floor.

Unsure of what to do, Maggie stalked around to Rick's side of the bed. She took a moment before attempting to wake him. She had never seen him like this before. Asleep. Vulnerable. This hardened man that lead them lay completely defenceless in front of her, almost as if he were dead and not sleeping. The thought of it shook her, prompting her to shake his arm gently.

In a panic, Rick sprang up, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun on his belt. His hand laid at ease only once he had fully opened his eyes to see that it was Maggie in front of him and not an intruder.

"Maggie," his gravel voice murmured her name as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "What's goin' on?"

"You need to come with me."

"What?"

"Just come with me. There's a man."

"What!" Rick's voice raised as well as his concern.

"No, please, you need to be quiet about this. He's holding Glenn at gun point and he's asked to talk to who's in charge. He's got people at every exit."

"How the hell did he get in?"

"The bedroom window."

"But Carol was on watch. She should've seen him."

"Rick," she spoke his name with aggravation, the thought of Glenn alone in the bedroom with the stranger prompted her to panic.

"Alright. Let's go."

Only after waking Carl and telling him to keep alert, did Rick join Maggie. Stepping lightly, they retreated back to the bedroom where Glenn now sat on the edge of the bed and both Joseph and Henry were now standing inside the room, armed. Joseph no longer had his hand gun aimed at Glenn's forehead, although Henry had urged him to, and the two stood with their arms at their sides.

Rick entered, his jaw clenched, as Maggie shut the door behind him. Just like before, his hand twitched for his gun but Joseph was on top of it.

"There's no need for guns. Or fighting. We just want to get this worked out."

Rick took his time inspecting both of them with a cold glare before speaking. "There's nothing to work out."

"I think there is," Joseph insisted. "You've taken something that belongs to me."

"To us," Henry added.

"What's he talking about, Rick?" Glenn asked, under the impression that it was something that Rick himself had taken. It hadn't seemed to sink in just quite yet why Joseph and Henry were there. Why they were saying these things.

Rick looked from Glenn back to Joseph, as if to ask him the very same question.

"This is my house. And I would like it back."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews! Please continue to leave more, I love reading them. For future chapters, I have Rick, Carl, and Michonne all paired with OCs and I have Carol and Daryl together just because c: Like always, thanks in advance for reading.**

At Joseph's words, Rick's expression quickly transformed from cross to shocked. It all made sense. The food, the weapons, the way everything was left so conveniently functionable. There had been a voice in the back of Rick's mind, telling him that this wasn't right - that this was too good to be true without any strings attached. He had accepted the fact that the house might very well be inhabited. But he had figured that he and the others would be long gone before the habitants ever returned. If they did return.

Rick let the silence linger in the air, Joseph's words still weighing on everyone's chest. If this was Joseph's home, Rick could clearly see that he and his group were in fact the intruders in this situation. However, since the prison became overrun, the group had been dealt a nasty hand. Losing Beth, encountering Terminus, being on the road for five gruelling days. His people were tired, starving, in need of rest. This was the first place they had come across in miles. Rick would be damned before he let an opportunity like this go by before he put up a fight.

"You weren't here when we came across this place yesterday. How do I know you're not just feeing me horse shit?"

"A few days ago, two of our members went out for a food run. After they didn't return, we went out to look for them, leaving two of our remaining members to keep watch from the water tower. When they saw you and your group take the house, they were outnumbered and overpowered." Joseph paused to be assured that he kept his tone as light as possible. "I came home after a very rough day to find my house filled with people I don't know and a couple I've never seen before, sleeping in my son's bed."

"You have a son?" Rick slightly detoured the conversation, finding a way to connect to Joseph. The time had long since been gone where Rick used his words and social skills rather than his physical intimidation to work with others. But that was only because those who preferred to talk rather than fight had seemed to be killed off. Perhaps for that very reason. Rick could see that Joseph was one of those rare variety.

"I had a son," Joseph's tone was rather crisp at this remark.

"We have two children with us, we have many mouths to feed. We've been through a hell of a lot lately. We've lost a lot. We'd been walking for five days before we found this place. But we can help you. There's many of us and we're strong. I saw you had plants outside, we can help with the farm, we can help build up defences, we can pull our weight."

Joseph was hesitant. He had turned away too many before. There had been others who he had failed to aid, failed to let them in. It remained on his conscious, all the people he had turned away. But he couldn't simply let Rick in. Not with his number and not without knowing a single thing about him or his group. "We don't have the space or the resources."

"We saw your stock of food," Glenn cut in. "You could afford a few more mouths."

"I could take in two of you, maybe three of you. But I was informed you have well over ten people. And the fact remains,…we don't know you."

"Let me make myself clear," Rick's tone gained aggression as he leaned forward slightly. "We can't leave. We won't leave. So if you don't make room for us, I will."

This comment is what set Henry off, raising his gun at Rick almost as if it were a reflex. Like a chain reaction, this prompted Rick to pull his handgun from his holster and it was aimed at Henry's forehead in an instant.

"Henry, this is not how we handle things," Joseph growled, turning to the short tempered man.

"This cowboy doesn't want to negotiate. We risk our lives by letting him stay here any longer."

"Rick," Glenn turned to his leader, leaning in toward his ear and placing a light hand on his shoulder. "Be smart about this. Just like you said, we haven't found anything like this for days. Who knows when we'll find something else."

Rick did not break his eye lock with Henry to look at Glenn. "It doesn't matter how, but my people will be safe," Rick proclaimed, cocking his gun as if to make a point.

"I can give you the barn," Joseph exclaimed in an panic. "It's spacious and stable. There's some supplies in there but that's the best I can do."

The two men, locked in their aim with their jaws clenched, did not speak immediately, although their minds were being flooded with thoughts.

"Please, men, lower your weapons."

Sighing in frustration, Henry was the first to lower his sights. Although aggravated and tense, he bit his tongue. Rick followed after him, slowly holstering his hand gun with a scowl. A sort of silence settled in between the company. With Maggie positioned near the door, Glenn perched on the edge of the bed, and Rick facing Joseph and Henry with his back to the door. At this point, Joseph wasn't exactly keen on agreeing to let Rick and his group occupy the barn without knowing anything about them. How could he be assured that he and his own group would be safe sharing the property with them, if he didn't know if he could trust them yet? While Maggie nor Glenn appeared to be any real threat, Rick's demenour gave Joseph an adverse feeling. Regardless, he was the first to break the silence with a warm tone.

"We didn't get properly introduced. My name is Joseph Reed and this is Henry Thomas," he said, gesturing to Henry who was still fuming, then commencing to extend a hand to Rick.

"Rick Grimes," he grumbled, ignoring the hand that Joseph held out to him. He was less than enthused about having to work this out, especially since his control was now being undermined. However, he could tell, by the way Joseph spoke and the way he handled himself, he was not a bad man. Not a man that was out for blood or to cheat Rick out of his survival. Yet still, trust was not a luxury Rick could afford. Not yet.

"We have six other members, three of which are covering the exists. I'm going to kindly ask you and your group to exit the house so that I can meet with my people and discuss your accommodations. We will work this out, Mister Grimes," Joseph told him in the calmest and most pleasant way that he could manage, even forcing a light smile once he had said his piece.

Rick took his well deserved time to let this sink in. He had just had this extensive conversation and had made a deal with a stranger all in less than ten minutes after waking up. He had to talk himself into believing that Joseph really was going try and work this out like he said, and had not just promised him the barn because he had a gun pointed at Henry's forehead or just to get them out of his house.

Rick shot a look at Glenn and Maggie for reassurance before he even moved from his position. They had made it this far. They had survived despair and gotten through encounters that should had killed them all, if not wiped out half their number. Rick was not going to let a careless mistake get the better of him. Not after all they'd been through.

"Alright," he said slowly, un-arching his back and standing upright. He gestured for each individual in the room to follow him out into the living room. The scatter of sleeping bodies slept on, almost as if the heated conversation that just took place was nothing but a figment of Rick's own imagination. He took a moment to look over his people. He couldn't put these people in danger again. He had to be cautious of Joseph and whoever his "people" were. Joseph's soft tone, friendly demeanour, and amiable face had caught Rick off guard. There weren't too many people that you came across these days that had that kind of patience or will power to smile at a man who's taken possession of his home. As harmless as Joseph seemed, Rick could not allow himself to lower his guards.

"I need you all to listen up," Rick announced upon entering the living room, hitting his fist against the wall twice to wake them up. The sleeping bodies slowly began to animate as they propped up their torsos, rubbed their eyes, stretched their arms. Carol, however, jolted awake, realizing she had fallen asleep while on watch, her hang gun still resting in her lap. Would the others notice, since she was facing the window? She figured she could get away with it, attempting to turn around to face Rick, making it appear as if she had been away this entire time. However, as she saw two strange men behind him, she knew her façade was already proven false.

"This is Joseph and Henry. Now, Joseph owns this farm and he's going to work out a way to let us stay here. But we need to get up, get out of the house so he and his people can talk." Although Rick's words sounded hopeful and optimistic, neither his tone nor his expression matched it. And the group could sense that. In a daze of confusion, they all exchanged glances with each other and questioned if they were to follow as Rick said or take his tone as a warning.

"We gotta leave the house?" Daryl asked, particularly sceptical of this.

"For now. Joseph's gonna give us a place to stay."

Rick's assurance only seemed to subside the tension in the room slightly. Joseph felt obligated to speak up and assure these people that they were not in danger, but sensed that anything from his mouth would be seen as provocation.

The group only seemed to blink at Rick, at each other, their minds racing with unanswered questions. The room remained stagnant until Rick spoke again.

"Come on. Get your stuff together and we'll meet out front." He did not bother to even look at Joseph or Henry as he turned his back to his group and retreated back to the bedroom to retrieve his children.

Joseph and Henry took this as a sign to give the group some privacy and wait outside until they had emptied out of the farmhouse. They received nothing but dirty looks on their way out.

"Jeffrey! Desmond! We're at the front!" Joseph called out once he and Henry had exited the front door and had joined with Saul. His voice was loud enough to reach the back of the house, but not much farther. Despite this effort, the farm had it's own reasons for it's alarming lack of walkers. At this point, Henry waved to his wife and son up on the water tower, summoning them to join them. All of the members eventually congregated together, with the acceptance of Winifred who had yet to return with the truck.

"What's going on? Why are they still in there?" Saul asked, after Joseph had made him hold his questions.

"He told them they could stay in the barn!" Henry retorted, his anger and temper still burning hot.

Saul's brows curled, his lips growing into a perfect Anderson scowl. His eyes became dark, almost murderous. Like a child who's parent has just told them _no_. "How could you be so stupid!" the twenty seven year old eventually erupted. "We had the upper hand! We could have taken them by surprise. We had them cornered, we could have just gotten rid of them!"

"Saul, you know that's not how we handle things."

"No. No, the way we handle things is we kiss everyone's ass in hope's that they don't spill our brains, instead of attacking first! You want to talk things out and accommodate everyone as they plan to slaughter us!"

"Saul, please," his brother pleaded with him softly. Jeffrey knew he couldn't cool his head but had a chance at detouring his train of thought, at best.

"Shut up, Jeffrey. He needs to hear this." Saul did not look at his brother but kept his glare locked on Joseph. "How many more of us need to die before you quit being a fucking hippie and realize the only way we're going to survive is by killing first? Remember William? Brenda?"

Joseph's eyes began to narrow at the man who was his junior by over a decade. As he ranted on, Joseph's face began to clench. The man did whatever he could to keep the atomosphere smooth and calm amongst the group. It took great amounts of will power and strength to keep his temper at bay, for the sake of his group. But no one tweaked his nerves like Saul Anderson.

"What about Margaret? Or Tom? Didn't they die because you failed to protect them?"

"You watch your mouth." For the first time in a long time, Joseph raised his voice in anger. Saul was one to push boundaries, to find the spot on a person that made them writhe and squirm with rage. And then to toy with that spot. Margaret and Tom were names that haunted Joseph's past and he carried their ghosts with him everyday. Margaret and Tom were names that were carved into wood that marked two mounds of dirt. Margaret and Tom were names that were once associated with the word _family_.

The company of seven stood in uncomfortable silence until the drone of Joseph's truck approached from the road. Winifred was back.

Just as she parked the truck at the side of the farmhouse, the front door creaked open, the likeness of Daryl and Carol appearing on the front porch before descending onto the ground and approaching the group that was now complete. Members of both groups eyed each other thoroughly until any words were exchanged.

"You gonna give us somewhere to stay, huh? How you gonna manage that if you forcin' us outta the house?" Daryl grumbled, noticeably keeping his distance from Carol.

"Rick will inform you of our deal. You have nothing to worry about." Joseph spoke in the most affable tone he could manage after his verbal skirmish with Saul.

Daryl merely grunted at this, not entirely convinced but having an argument ready in his mind. Carol stood to his side, or at least as close as he would let her get to it. She could do nothing but cling to her silence. It was because of her that they were caught off guard like this. It was because of her that they were forced to obey Joseph's demands and requests. While she was grateful that Joseph and his people did not seem readily harmful and seemed to be a reasonable group, Carol - like many members of Rick's group - did not like to have the lower hand. There was something about traveling with children that made a group more trustworthy. It was not the group that Carol was particularly worried about. It was the fact that Rick had refused to even look at her and Daryl couldn't seem to stand her presence. She had followed him out of the house, practically begging him to utter a word to her. It was because of her that they had escaped Terminus. But it was because of her that they were in danger once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, thank you for the reviews and thank you for reading!**

"This really isn't the worst thing. Joseph said he'd give us the barn, and that's better than anything we've had since the prison. I say we cooperate and see where this goes." The group had huddled in the front yard, a good fifteen feet from the house, discussing their current situation and what was to be done. Joseph and his people were in repossession of the farmhouse once again and their "accomodations" were to be prepared for them. In the huddle, Rick was the feature of attention; but now Glenn had the floor.

Much like they had on the living room floor after just waking up, the members of the group exchanged glances, almost as if it were too early to exchange words. One thing was for certain; Glenn's remark got the approving nod of Michonne, Tyreese, and Bob.

"Glenn's right. We can't keep running like before. This looks safe. Besides, if these people wanted to kill us, they would have done it already." This remark from Michonne only reminded everyone why they had been caught off guard in the first place.

"Assume you're right," Rick said, his voice like gravel. "Say these people don't want nothin' but to get along. Are we just going to settle for some old barn that could collapse on us at any moment? Are we just going to give up here and live under these people's rule?"

"No one said anything about giving up," Michonne shot back, her tone almost challenging him. "We stay here for as long as we need. We heal, we rest. Then, if we need to, we go."

Rick sucked on the inside of his cheeks as he eyed the sword wielding woman. God, he sure hated it when Michonne was right.

"If I may say," started Abraham. "I have no interest in staying much longer than necessary. Washington awaits us and we await it. This interruption is only stalling us from getting Eugene to Washington."

Rick was sick of hearing about Washington. About even fathoming the idea that there was any way to save this world that was left in shambles. Abraham talked of saving the world, finding a cure, and getting life back to it's civilized ways. Life before Judith, life before any of these people that stood around him had even entered his life. Rick was done with dangling the idea of liberation in front of his nose, believing that if he lunged hard enough, he could grasp it between his teeth. Rick was done with Washington.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he said wisely to Abraham, wanting to handle one problem at a time.

"And we will get there," Abraham felt the need to state. For this man, Washington was salvation. He had a vision based on a lie and he didn't even know it.

The company dwindled into silence, words dancing on the tip of their tongue but their intuition holding them back. Like always, it was Rick's call.

"Then it's settled. We take the barn."

"I offered them the barn and if they decide to take me up on that offer, that's that. I can't take back what I offered to them." Just like Rick's group, Joseph, the Andersons, the Thomases, Desmond, and Winifred huddled within the house, in the very same living room that had been used as a bed only minutes earlier. Joseph had two dogs, so to speak, nipping at his heals and barking at him for his attempt to make peace with Rick and his people.

"And we don't get a say in this? Last I checked, this wasn't a dictatorship," Saul retorted, his strong will making it almost impossible for him to give up his argument.

"Saul, this is my home, my farm. You are _my_ guest, just as they are. I will make the decisions regarding my own farm. Things were getting heated and I had a decision to make. We'll keep an eye on them though."

"Damn right we will." It was Henry's turn to do the nipping. "That _Rick_ has no problem with killing us to get what he wants. You heard what he said in there."

"Rick may be a bit rough on the edges but I doubt we need to worry about him."

"You heard what he said, Joseph," Henry repeated himself.

"What'd the bloke say?" For the first time, Desmond MacNeil's voice featured in the conversation, his Irish accent wrapped tightly around every word. Out of all the unique characters that lived on the Reed farm, Desmond was by far the hardest to read. Despite having undying devotion to Joseph for having saved his life, it was not uncommon for him to side with Henry and Saul on certain arguments. The man kept his distance from everyone it seemed, primarily wielded a bayonet, and reserved his words for necessary situations. This was such a situation.

"He made it clear he had no problem in killing us to make room for his people," Henry answered him dryly.

"Now, we don't know if he meant that," Joseph attempted to correct him.

"Well, Jesus, what else did you think he meant? The man pulled a gun on me for Christ sakes."

"To be fair, you raised yours first."

"I suppose there is nothing else to be said then," Desmond concluded after a string of silence. "Rick and his people could very well decide to live in the barn. And we will just have to live with it."

Further words were had within the two groups before Joseph, Henry, Stephen and Winifred were seen exiting through the front door and advancing toward Rick's group. Stephen had his rifle in hand and brushed right past the cluster of survivors as he sauntered irritably to his look out on the water tower. Joseph, however, had his rifle mounted on his back and a pair of metal clippers in his hand. The general atmosphere of the group appeared to be relaxed and balanced - with the exception of Daryl's permanent scowl and Carl's instinctive cling to his father. Whatever sense of independence he had indulged in before Terminus seemed to have vanished into thin air. The desperate need to be at his father's side almost prevented him from noticing the girl who stood at her own adoptive father's side, aging only a month older than him.

Joseph looked to Rick, feeling fourteen sets of eyes on him, as if to ask him what the outcome of this would be.

"We'll take the barn," Rick answered the question that his eyes had asked.

Not another word was said as Joseph led the party to the faded red barn that stood a good hundred feet from the farmhouse, standing sixty feet tall, thirty five feet wide, and fifty feet long. For some of the members, the idea of a barn was closely related to the idea of a horde of confined walkers. And a missing girl named Sophia.

Only after exhaling heavily did Joseph cut the chains on the barn doors, pushing them open to reveal a mostly empty barn with the exception of a few boxes and some old farm equipment. While it had been at least two years since any kind of livestock lived in the barn, evidence of them was still present in the stench and the bails of hay. The focus was now taken off of Joseph and had been placed on the barn, the group slowly stalking into it and gazing at what it had to offer.

"I realize this probably isn't ideal, but it's all I can do. I can get you some blankets and lanterns for the night. Tomorrow we can talk about jobs…but I'll let you set up-"

"Jobs? What jobs?" Daryl's silent suspicion and distrust was beginning to boil over.

For once, Joseph was at a loss of words.

"I told them we'd help out. If we're staying here, I think it's only fair."

Again, this received nothing more than a grunt from Daryl. In his mind, this was the Greene farm all over again. They had to live under the land owner's laws and work for them in exchange for sleeping on their front lawn while they lived comfortably inside and slept in warm beds. Daryl entertained the thought of it, comparing the Reed farm to the Greene farm. If that was indeed the case, then Joseph was no Hershel.

Helen, the Anderson brothers, and Desmond tended to the house while Tyreese, Abraham, and Rick assisted Joseph and Henry in clearing some of the debris and boxes from the barn. Told to stay until everything was clear, Winifred stood to the side like most of the other group members, watching the men at work while making heads and tail of the barn. Winifred's eye did not take long to find Carl, cradling his baby sister and keeping his eyes locked on his father, as if he should look away, Rick would disappear into thin air.

"Hey," Winifred reached her arm out to poke him, although quickly retracting it when her words alone made the kid jump. She was intrigued by the idea of another person her age who wasn't glued to his mother's side and would care for her company rather than retreat to his lonesome whenever he got the chance. She had grown tired of Stephen's pathetic antics and was enthralled by the idea of a good friend who was under the age of twenty five. Although, by her first impression of Carl, her hopes of that kind of companion was quickly dwindling. "Been a while since I've seen another teenager around."

Carl merely blinked at her. _What a stupid thing to say_ , he thought. He swallowed heavily and slowly turned away from her, hoping she'd be able to read the message his actions were giving her. However, Winifred was not such a person to be as passive.

"So, how old are you?"

Nothing, not even his eyes, moved from position to acknowledge that she had said something. Still, Winifred couldn't seem to take the hint.

"I'm fifteen. Joseph says I could pass for seventeen though, and sometimes I think he's right. But if seventeen is pussying out of everything and sulking alone on a water tower, then I want no part of it," she allowed herself to ramble, making an allusion to Stephen's behaviour. "I bet you're fifteen too. Don't ask how I know, I just got that feeling, you know? You know how when you look at someone and think something and you just know you're right? Like when I saw you, I thought maybe you'd make a better friend than Stephen ever c-"

"We're not going to be friends," Carl snapped, still refusing to cast a single glance her way. "I have bigger problems to worry about than making friends."

With raised brows and a step backward, it seemed Winifred finally had gotten the hint. "Suite yourself."

"You can't stay mad at me forever." Carol's weary voice floated on the air between her and Daryl. Joseph's group had long since left the barn. With the exception of a brief visit from Jeffrey who gave the group a bundle of blankets, the group was left undisturbed as they settled in and began to turn the barn into a living quarters.

Daryl turned to look at her, from manipulating a stack of hay and a blanket into a make shift bed. Carol looked tired, guilty. A look Daryl hadn't seen on her face since the prison. "I ain't mad," he told her, turning back to his heap of hay. "I'm just makin' sure I don't go doin' nothin' stupid."

"Like what?" Carol asked, now leaning against one of the barn's beams. She knew Daryl hadn't completely healed from losing Beth - something she understood but wished she didn't. She didn't want to imagine what Daryl and Beth had done in the time that they were alone that made her death so devastating to him. It didn't matter now. But she also couldn't stand the thought of Daryl holding a grudge against her either.

"Like gettin' comfortable. Or startin' to trust these people. I don't know what Rick said to convince them to let us stay here. But it sure as hell don't feel right. People aren't this kind. Not anymore." Daryl spit to the side, his saliva writhed on the dusty floor.

Carol contemplated his words, the tension in her chest slightly decompressing now that he claimed not to be angry with her. It didn't relieve her entirely of her guilt but it sure did help. "Only time will tell. I think we'll be alright though."

"You better hope we are." The vested man finally looked to her. He never understood how she could go days without bathing and still come out looking like a million bucks.

"Look, I feel worse than you can even imagine about what happened."

"This ain't about you fallin' asleep on watch," Daryl cut her off, calling her out on what she was strategically trying to avoid with her choice of words. "No one holds that against you. It'd been a long trek and someone should've been there to relieve you. Don't beat up on yourself about it."

This won him one of Carol's prized smiles. The two looked at each other in understood silence - Carol with her smile and Daryl with the closest he could get to a grin.

It seemed that, within the blink of an eye, the night approached and the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. As the sky dimmed, the amount of light within the barn slowly began to drain. A few snide comments were made in regards to Joseph's unfulfilled promise to bring lamps and lanterns, and the thought of where their meal was going to come from also began to cause a stir among the group.

As it approached seven in the evening, Helen knocked on the door of the barn, Stephen carefully watching from the water tower.

"Joseph has invited you and your group to join us for dinner at the house," her timid voice seemed to squeak at Rick once he had pulled the large barn door open to her.

"Why?" is all he could say, bewildered that this man had the heart to invite them back into his home for dinner after they had unrightfully taken it from him and were practically blackmailing him into let them stay on his property.

"Uh," Helen faltered with her words. Just as Joseph had earlier, she felt the sets of eyes on her, trying to read her intentions and character. "To get better aquainted," she lied. Helen had not the slightest idea why Joseph was extending such a warm hand to these people, especially after all the heat he was getting from the rest of the group.

Rick could tell she didn't know either. Which her mousy voice, her mousy hair, her mousy features. Helen Thomas might as well of been a mouse. Couldn't kill another man, couldn't kill a walker. She couldn't tell her husband _no_ and she couldn't lash out in bad nature, even if she tried. Saul's words; _"the weakest member"_ , rang true. Helen knew that, if it were not for her husband, she would be nothing more than a heap of meat and bones. What was worse was that everyone else knew it too.

Rick glared at Helen through the foot wide gap in the door, reading her face that was an open book. The setting sun illuminated half of her face while the other half remained a shadow. He couldn't reject the offer, he had to try and co exist with Joseph and his group. Based on a day's judgement, they meant no harm to them and were just inviting them for dinner. Or, just as easily, Rick and his people could _be_ the dinner. And that is why, with a hand resting on his holstered gun, he said, "we'll be there."


	5. Chapter 5

**As always, thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading!**

Twenty two bodies cramped within the quarters in the Reed farmhouse would be stressful enough. Throw in the idea that, amongst those twenty two people, there were two groups that did not know nor trust each other, the tension became so thick that it could be could be cut with a knife. It was natural that the dinner began with the exchange of sideways glances. The dining table certainly wasn't large enough to fit each person, so extra chairs and boxes were brought around the table to sit on. Rick yearned to hold his baby daughter, to hold her and craddle her throughout the dinner. But his focus was on Joseph and he made sure his gun was ready, should he need it. Part of him felt a pang of guilt for being so apprehensive - this man could have ambushed them if he wanted, he was kind enough to accommodate them on his land, and now he had invited them for dinner. Almost everything in Rick was telling him to loosen up but the consistent tug that kept his detachedness and assertiveness high would not let up.

Dinner was a skimpy serving of mashed potatoes, beans, and bland soup, prepared by Helen. Because of their location, Joseph's people could still somewhat live off of the land and have fairly fresh food. That was, if the harvest didn't get eaten by bugs, or if there had been enough sunshine or rainfall. It also didn't help that, besides Joseph and Desmond, the rest of the group was unfamiliar with agriculture and farming. The Thomases had been a middle class family living in the suburbs where Henry worked as an office manager and Helen had been a teacher, the Andersons were both in law as they had taken over their father's practice, and Winifred had been the daughter of an unemployed, schizophrenic mother and redneck father who owned a bait and tackle shop. Desmond had grown up on a farm back in Ireland and had studied agriculture when he came to America. Despite owning his own farm, even Joseph hadn't grown up as a farmer - up until the age of twenty, the farming world had been unknown to him. It was his wife, Margaret, who was a country girl. After dropping out of university to marry her, they took control of her parent's farm. The very farm that they congregated on that night.

The sound of forks scraping plates filled the room as the two groups ate in nearly complete silence. It was ironic how a group of people could be gathered in such close proximity yet feel miles away from each other. There would be smacking of lips and grinding of teeth but it was a good few minutes before anyone attempted to make conversation.

Rick wanted to thank Joseph. Tell him he was grateful for how seemingly hospitable he was treating all of them, and without hesitation. The dinner was better than anything he had eaten since the prison. However, something very different came out of his mouth. "We're gonna need lanterns." He spoke as he swallowed a mouthful of mashed potato.

"We'll get you some after dinner," Joseph replied, sitting right across the table from Rick. It was no coincidence that it had worked out that way.

Rick nodded with a grunt, scooping up the last mouthful with his fork. It seemed that everyone else was finishing up at the same time and only a handful of words had been said. Joseph was hoping this dinner would have cooled things down, perhaps loosened the tension. He wanted to get to know these people - hoping to discover that they were safe and that he could sleep that night.

Helen's mouth opened, lingered in it's open position. She sat forward as if she were about to say something, but Henry's hand on her arm and his adverse glare halted any further action on her part.

"Dinner was good," Glenn spoke up, meeting Joseph's eyes, and then Helen's. "Thank you."

Helen merely nodded.

"And your house is very nice too," Tara attempted to carry the conversation, desperate to keep the company from falling back into uncomfortable silence.

"Thank you." It was Joseph's turn to do the thanking. "It belonged to my in laws. My wife grew up in this house."

No one dared to ask anything about his wife - where she was or what her name was. As things tended to operate in this apocalyptic world, if your spouse or child was not currently with you, then they were most likely no longer of the living.

This string of compliments and sharing led to a fully participated conversation between the two groups. About the farm, about how things were outside, about how Rick and his people had just escaped a massacre at Terminus. For those hours that the two groups spent getting acquainted and conversing over a table with empty plates, it seemed the obvious fact of subtle distrust had rolled to the back of their minds.

It was not long before smaller groups broke off into their own isolated conversations. Chairs were pivoted to face the members of their own discussions and some of the survivors even stood from their chairs to join in.

Together sat Winifred and Stephen, listening in on Henry tell Tyreese, Sasha, and Bob about the way they worked out watch shifts. Which, ironically, meal times were the only times in which no one was on watch.

"What do you think of him?" Winifred leaned back in her chair and muttered to Stephen.

"Who?" he asked, although his tone dripped with apathy.

"That kid over there." Winifred tipped her chin in Carl's direction, seated next to Rick and Michonne. "I can't seem to figure him out."

"What's to figure out? They're not going to stay for long anyway."

"How do you know?"

"My dad said they're either going to stay until they attack us or we'll wake up one morning, and they'll have taken off without a word. Either way, we can't trust them."

Winifred raised her eyebrows at him, a hint of doubt and annoyance playing at her lips. "I don't know about that," she said, still watching Carl as he sat silently by his father, his eyes fixated on the patterned table cloth. "Something's up with that kid. I wish I knew what it was."

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Winnie?" Stephen scoffed, then turning away from her.

With a pronounced _pffft_ from her lips, Winifred looked the other way as well. The way she saw it, Stephen was just a miniature Henry Thomas. He repeated whatever he said, wanted to run a one man show. Only Stephen didn't seem to have the nerve that his father did. The hot temper. Instead, he was one to sulk alone or pull away from social interactions. But, boy, he sure did love to complain.

Despite the light hearted mood that the evening had come to host, Rick's hardened face did not appear to soften all that much. Although Carl, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie were seated around him, he did not allow himself to show his friendly side. However, it was an improvement in behaviour that his hand no longer lingered on his left thigh, above his gun. It seemed that, in his conversation with Joseph and the Anderson brothers, they talked about anything but the job assignment that Joseph had mentioned.

"We had really turned it into a community. I mean, we still can't _really_ figure out how everyone got so sick. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore," Glenn was saying, talking about the downfall of the prison. Being one of the victims of the mysterious illness, he spoke about it with passion.

"Well, you were able to move on from it. That's all that matters," Joseph attempted to comfort him with his words.

"Is it?" Daryl's condescending tone seemed to catch the eight off guard. "You're talkin' about movin' on but you're livin' in some house your wife grew up in. You ever even been anywhere else since the world went to shit?"

Joseph cleared his throat, keeping his muscles and temper relaxed as much as he could. Aggression was to be expected - aggression was always to be expected, that's what Joseph constantly told himself. The best way to battle it was with pacifism. "I know it might seem that way. I will admit I have not been moved around nearly as much as your people." He paused, his gaze alternating between Daryl's eyes, his arms, and his forehead. "After I lost my wife and son, I left the farm for a while. I won't bore you with the details but I just wandered around, feeling lost. That's when I met Winifred and the Andersons," Joseph said this with a firm pat on Saul's upper arm. "I took them back to the farm and that was that. I'm not going to compare myself you, or any of you for that matter." Joseph now glanced at the others from Rick's group. "But let me just remind you that moving on doesn't always have to be physical."

Before the clock's long hand reached the 10th hour that night, the number of Rick's group had vacated the farmhouse and had retreated back the to barn with the promised lanterns. Henry had all too eagerly volunteered - more like announced - that he'd be taking the first watch. Saul was to take the second. As Helen cleaned up the dining area and washed the dishes, Joseph watched from the window.

"They seem like a descent group." Desmond's hand came down on Joseph's back as he came up from behind him. "Sure, I'd keep an eye on them but I wouldn't worry to much."

Joseph nodded. Desmond's words had confirmed what he was thinking. He was happy that Desmond wasn't siding with Saul and Henry on this. Desmond was a rather unpredictable individual. Despite having known him for close to two years, sometimes Joseph was convinced that he knew nothing about the man. That was either a very good thing or a very bad thing.

"I think that went well. Maybe even better than well." Michonne was the first to say anything once the group had migrated back to the barn.

"It went alright," Rick admitted once he had closed the door.

"Come on, it was better than alright." Michonne's tone was playful but her eyes held an urgency. She would never let on to just how much she wanted this to work out. For so long they had been running. Before she had met the group, before she had even met Andrea, she was constantly running and just _surviving_. Everything was assumed to be temporary. Even when they were at the prison, everyone knew it wasn't going to last forever. Even if they never admitted it. Sure, the Reed farm wasn't the utopia of her dreams but it was shelter. It was company. It was self sufficiency. It was the first thing they had come across since the prison that they could call eventually come to call home. Michonne wanted a home.

"Joseph and his people don't raise too many suspicions with me," Rick announced to the entire company, pretending not to notice that he had mostly ignored Michonne's remark. "We'll go along with what they want and we'll try to make things work. But if things get heated, we aren't running. Joseph is a good leader but he lacks aggression. We can take the farm if we have to."

Joseph had promised to knock on the barn doors at eight in the morning to discuss job assignment. But there was something about being approached again that didn't sit well with Rick. He made sure he was awake well before eight and was standing a rough twenty feet from the door of the barn door with Daryl and Glenn at his side.

"Good morning, men," Joseph greeted the trio, it being impossible to not feel slightly intimated by their number while there was only one of him. The reminder that Saul was watching through a scope from the water tower eased him somewhat. "So, what kind of help can you give us?"

"What kind do you need?" Rick was quick to reply.

"Well, we could always use more help with the crops. We're working on a barrier that lines the perimiter so we'd need help going on supply runs and with the actual construction. We go on food and weapon runs once every week, just to keep stocked up."

"That can be arranged." Rick's tone was far warmer than it had been the previous day. So far, Joseph was being reasonable.

"Helen could use another hand in the kitchen, if that's possible. She cooks the meals for all of us. And I do have another suggestion," Joseph said the addition to his statement with caution. "I'd like to have the children work together. I think, with all this growing up they have to do, it does them good to be around people their own age. Even if it's only for a few hours." Joseph would never come out and say it but, by what he had gathered by watching Carl's behaviour, he was far too dependant on his father. He could tell that he hadn't always been - that it was a collection of recent events that had rendered him crippled. He could see the boy had potential and having him around Winifred and Stephen, and away from Rick, just might bring it out in him again.

Rick took his time in contemplating this suggestion. It struck him odd that Joseph had such a passion about these children when not one out of the three of them were biologically his. "That's fine," Rick gave in. "I don't want my people in danger though."

"We're always in danger, Rick. Even now, the four of us are in danger."

"But you can control the amount of danger you put us in by how careful you are."

"We'll be fine," Glenn intervened, seeing that a tension was building a foundation for something ugly. "We're always careful, right, Rick?"

Rick grunted. "I'll get them ready," he muttered as he and Daryl began to stalk back to the barn for the others. Glenn, however, hung back with Joseph for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Rick," he told him, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes.

"No need to be sorry." Joseph waved his hand dismissively. "He's being smart."

"He's being an asshole."

Joseph widened his eyes at the young man, shocked that he'd talk about his leader like that.

"The others didn't see what happened in that bedroom yesterday. You lowered your gun when I could have very well attacked you. You didn't know I had my gun on the night stand."

The left corner of Joseph's bearded lip turned upward, flattered by Glenn's comment. "I like to handle things differently than most people. Violence should be a last resort. Not a first."

To this, Glenn merely nodded, unable to find the right words. The groups apprehension and suspicion towards Joseph had began to nag at him. He couldn't vouch for the others in his group but he had shared a secluded, trustworthy handful of minutes with Joseph. As soon as Maggie had left the room to summon Rick, Joseph had instinctively lowered his gun. He had never any intention of harming Glenn or any member of his group. He was a gentle giant who was constantly being over and under estimated by others.

"Joseph, the world could use more men like you."


End file.
